Language of Flowers
by Lunar Siren
Summary: Esme and Renesmee enjoy a quiet afternoon planting flowers. A very cute, fluffy one-shot sure to bring the warm fuzzies!


**Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight Saga. No copyright infringement intended, and no money is being made off this.**

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_With spring finally here, I couldn't resist this cutesy one-shot. And I just wanted to write more Esme, ha ha!  
If you're confused about the last line, it's the meaning of the flower. Hence the title._

_As always, I count on my amazing beta, GreatChemistry, and she never ever fails me.  
Thank you so much for all of your hard work! I 3 you hardcore!  
_

_I hope you enjoy this momentary break from the action of CV!  
And don't forget to review! (:_

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"I'm ready, Grandma!" Renesmee sang, her new pink flip-flops clapping against the stairs. They matched the pink and white sundress Charlie and Sue bought her in celebration of the coming spring.

Esme—dressed in an old pair of blue jeans and a comfortable tee-shirt—smiled at the little girl and shook her head. "You're not wearing your new dress to work in the garden, are you?" she asked gently.

Edward and Bella had gone hunting for the weekend, leaving Renesmee behind with the family. It was no surprise they wanted some alone time. When Esme learned Renesmee wanted to help plant flowers, she was more than delighted. She never had much time with the little one; between her parents, Rosalie, and Jacob, Renesmee was almost always busy. Esme understood the bond between her and Jacob, but he would have to learn to share. Renesmee was a miracle for the whole family, not just his fairytale.

Nessie frowned, stopping on the last step to tug on the fluffy skirt. "Aunt Rose said a real lady can refurbish a car's engine in a single day without getting a spot on her, so what's dirt compared to that?"

Esme resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but she couldn't stop the small chuckle. Only Rosalie. Esme loved her dearly, but sometimes she worried about what she was teaching Nessie. She picked up on certain topics much easier than others. Bella and Edward started teaching her basic math and reading skills, but in no time at all she grew bored with it. She recently advanced to high school algebra, so it was no surprise she was quickly picking up traits from her family.

Rosalie taught her about cars, while Emmett discussed microbiology. Alice tried to show Renesmee the fine points of shopping, happy that she didn't take after her mother. Jasper spent most of his time playing games with her—their favorite was Cowboys and Indians with the pack—but somehow added a history lesson every time. And Renesmee was always excited to bring her dolls to Carlisle with a new made-up disease. She had the best teachers available, and she was quick to soak up every new bit of knowledge.

With a small jolt, Esme realized this was the first time they would be alone together since last month. Everyone had kept the little angel to themselves.

"Well," Esme sighed, "I'm positive that you will not have a speck of dirt on you. You are, after all, the most adorable proper young lady."

Nessie gave a sharp giggle and hopped off the step. She took Esme's hand, hurriedly pulling her along. Esme followed the excited girl out into the sunlight.

Forks was known for its gloomy weather, but Esme had lived there long enough to almost predict the weather. A week past spring's official date, Forks had half a week free from the rain and clouds. Every day was sunshine and warm temperatures. The soil was never truly dry, so it was nearly perfect for planting. It was Esme's favorite time of year—a time for her to relax and enjoy herself away from the nuisance of every day life. But this time she had a guest.

She looked down at the glowing girl, a bright smile on her face. She was eyeing the buds Esme bought the other day, not to mention the many bags of seeds laying in the front yard. Some bags had to be bought from the store, but there were several exotic flowers that Esme had harvested over the years. Renesmee was more interested in those than the store bought plants.

The house had three flowerbeds—two close to the house, one on each side of the steps, and a circular bed further out in the yard. Esme knelt on the damp earth in front of the smaller flowerbed against the house, and Renesmee followed her lead. She fluffed the skirt so that it barely touched the grass and sat with her knees folded under her.

"If I had known you wanted to help," Esme said, "I would have waited to go shopping. I bought all these flowers without thinking what you'd like. I'm sorry, Renesmee."

"It's okay, Grandma. I like what you bought," said Nessie. She pointed to the flowers closest to the flowerbed. "Snowdrops?"

Esme nodded, pointing to other white flowers. "And freesia and lily-of-the-valley. I thought they would look nice together."

Nessie nodded enthusiastically. "For color we can use . . . hmm." She searched around her briefly before popping up to grab a black tray of multicolored flowers. "Dahlias!"

Esme smiled and took the tray so Nessie could sit back down without ruining her dress. "These will do nicely. Shall we start planting?"

Nessie picked up a small shovel and immediately dug into the earth. Surprisingly, just below the moist topsoil, it was almost dry. The flowers would need a small drink after they were planted to help them make it through the week. Forks would take care of them after that.

When they first lived in Washington, Esme hated planting. The rain would beat the flowers, break the stems, and often drown them. It upset her that all her hard work would go to waste within the week. Wherever they moved she had trouble with her plants. She was so used to doing everything to a schedule based on Ohio's weather; she didn't realize that's what kept going wrong. When she finally adapted to another state's weather, she couldn't believe the difference. She finally had a green thumb, just like her mother. That woman could make tomatoes grow from a rock.

Renesmee expertly placed the buds in a pattern that would look beautiful when they bloomed. Esme sat back as Nessie took each bud from its plastic container with the gentleness of a butterfly; she inspected it before placing it in the small hole and smearing dirt around it. She didn't have the strength of the rest of her family, yet there she was, treating the flowers with an overly-delicate touch. Like they were all precious living things. Esme was astounded. She knew Nessie wasn't like other children, she was surprisingly smart and compassionate, but watching her handle the buds made Esme really see the young girl.

Esme decided to stay back and let Nessie work; she wanted to see what her little mind would do with all the flowers. It was only ten minutes later when they were all planted, the small bed successfully filled. When they bloomed, the color would peek through all the white in odd geometric patterns. Renesmee turned to Esme with a smile. "How do they look?"

"Perfect," she replied. "Now what should we put on the other side?" Esme stood and picked up a few seed bags. "These would be pretty in the bigger bed. What do you think?"

Nessie jumped up and looked at the pictures on the bags. "Larkspurs? Gladiolus? Delphinium?" She looked up to her grandmother with curiosity. "Why would we plant seeds when there are more buds right there?" She motioned to the mix of pink buds sitting off to the side of the steps.

Esme's undead heart did a little frightened flip. She spent an entire day at Seattle's best shops looking for the healthiest, brightest sweet peas, hollyhocks, and impatiens. She didn't want to be selfish, but they were reserved for the small circular flowerbed.

"Those flowers are very special, Renesmee," she answered. Changing the subject, she continued, "And besides, we want a few summer flowers, don't we?" She picked up a plastic bag filled with hairy red seeds. "I think you'll enjoy these. They're called birds-of-paradise, because when they bloom, they look like exotic birds."

"Birds?" Nessie scrunched up her cute nose. "How do flowers look like birds?"

"Let's plant them and find out."

Nessie took the bags and retrieved the shovel, moving to the larger flowerbed. Esme moved the Belladonna lilies, cornflowers, and hyacinth buds to the empty bed while Nessie was busy plopping the birds-of-paradise in the ground. She used half of Esme's stash, excited to see them with her own eyes.

Esme scattered blazing star seeds along the back of the bed, close to the house. She tried to use them every year; she loved the wildflower effect against something decorative like the belladonnas or stargazer lilies. And from a distance, the birds-of-paradise mixed into the blazing star would make it look like a group of curious birds.

The rest of the seeds went into the ground, followed by the Stargazer lilies. Esme knew they would get lost in the other flowers, but she wasn't going to let them waste in their tray. She could cut them later and put them in a nice vase inside the house. Maybe Edward and Bella would like a bouquet?

Renesmee dusted her hands off, careful of her light dress, before running to the garage. It was a little past three o'clock, the sun still strong in the sky, but the flowers would be okay with a small drink. Esme followed the bouncy bronze curls as she unwound the garden hose. She didn't want Nessie to get her dress wet, so Esme took the nozzle, letting the girl turn on the spigot.

The flowers received a light mist. Esme knew better than to water flowers around noon; that's why she waited until the sun was starting to set before she did any gardening. She didn't want to harm the flowers.

The hose was rolled away while Nessie stood, taking in her hard work. Esme was happy to let Nessie take over. She was often avaricious about her gardening, but she could never ignore her only granddaughter. They shared a special moment today. It meant more to Esme than Renesmee could possibly understand, and she wouldn't change it for the world.

Looking at the mix of pink blooms still waiting, Esme decided to make a sacrifice. There was a reason she did this by herself, other than the connection to her mother. It connected her to her baby.

When they were both out of the hospital, Esme would carry him around their tiny apartment, pointing out objects to his sleepy eyes. The neighbor grew many flowers from her balcony, but one of the most prominent happened to be sweet peas. Whenever Esme's balcony door was open, the sweet smell surrounded them. By the building's entrance were large bushes of hollyhocks, greeting them when they returned home with a muskier smell. Sometimes she would sit outside in the warm evenings when he was wide awake and pluck a few impatiens blooms, dangling them over his cute face like a mobile. He would giggle and kick, his little eyes brightening as he greedily reached out to them with chubby little fingers.

Esme held onto these sensory memories by planting those three flowers every spring, no matter where they went.

She would take her time preparing the soil, slowly placing each bud with care. Every year the design was the same. The impatiens made a colorful circle around the tall hollyhocks while the delicate sweet peas mixed between the two.

"We're not finished yet, Renesmee," Esme said, touching the girl's hair lightly. Brown eyes glanced up to gold. "Will you help me plant these?"

"But you said they were special," Nessie replied.

"They are indeed. These buds need a tender hand; however, I think you proved today that you can handle any flower. They are special because I was waiting for the right time to share them with you."

Nessie smiled and picked up the tray of impatiens and, very carefully, took them to the circular bed. Esme followed with the sweet peas and hollyhocks.

As they set into the work, Esme's sensitive nose caught the smells. They were familiar, warm, and she only realized she was humming when Nessie spoke up.

"What song is that?"

"A lullaby. I used to sing it often," Esme said.

"To Daddy? It almost sounds like one of his songs."

Esme chuckled, patting the soil around a hollyhock. "No, not Daddy. I sang this song to a different child. A long time ago. I can't believe I still remember it."

"Was it Uncle Jasper you sang to?"

"No."

"Then who?" Nessie sat up, intent on getting an answer. She certainly inherited her mother's stubbornness.

Esme was hesitant to answer. Renesmee was more mature than children her age, but she felt this wasn't an appropriate subject for a baby. Even if she looked six, in truth, she was only about eighteen months. But she already knew some details of her family's past.

With a sigh, Esme surrendered.

"When I was human, I sang to my baby. It was probably only a baby's mentality to react, but he loved music. He smiled when he heard Richard Whiting's and Irving Berlin's songs. He loved 'Say It With Music.' I sang similar songs to him, and one tune seemed to stick. It became his lullaby."

"What happened to him?" Nessie asked. "He grew up and had children, right?"

Esme wanted to lie. _Yes, that's exactly right,_ she'd say with a smile. But she couldn't. "No, not at all. He was only alive a few days—barely a week old. I didn't know he had a lung infection, and I didn't have the money to see a doctor."

"What about Grandpa? He could've helped!"

"He wasn't there at the time." Truthfully, Carlisle was working in the nearest hospital. If she had the money, she could have met Carlisle once again, under more normal circumstances. What would her life be like then, seeing the never-changing Carlisle Cullen? She didn't want to think about it.

"It's a long, sad story, Nessie," Esme continued, "and that's no story for this beautiful day."

Nessie frowned, but finished planting the impatiens on her side without another word. Esme was thankful the topic was dropped.

When they finished, they stepped back to review their work. It was a small fountain of color now, but in a matter of weeks, the colors would brighten and overflow in their bed.

Esme looked down to Renesmee, who was biting her bottom lip gently. "What do you think?" she asked, smoothing the bronze curls.

Nessie motioned for her to bend down. The family had almost fully stopped Nessie of speaking completely through touch, but there were times she found describing herself difficult. Esme knelt next to the girl and immediately felt a small warm hand pressed to her cheek.

It was a simple scene. A picture of the flowers, only with a minor addition. Surrounding the flowery fountain were small bushes of volkameria. Esme wasn't sure if it was coincidence or if Alice had said something earlier, but somehow, Nessie knew all the flowers were about the baby. And she had thought of one that was also connected.

Esme touched Nessie's hand with a weak smile, the little girl returning it brightly. "That's an excellent idea, Nessie. Tomorrow we'll go buy a few."

"Should we tell Auntie?" Renesmee asked, her smile turning mischievous. No one had to ask who she was talking about when she mentioned _Auntie_; there was Aunt Rose, and then there was Auntie.

"Let's not," Esme laughed. "I think our flowers will be just fine without Alice's expert eye. You did a fine job today, Nessie. They'll be absolutely beautiful when they're in full bloom."

"I learned from a great teacher," replied Nessie. "Oh, and what do I think of them?" Nessie turned back to the pink flowers. "I think he loves them, Grandma."

As the silver Volvo came down the driveway and Nessie, in her spotless pink and white dress, ran to her parents, Esme smiled softly. Yes, the volkameria would suit this new rendition nicely. She almost forgot about it, but she remembered seeing some on her neighbor's balcony. It was the one flower her baby had grabbed and, unknowingly, offered to her. She wasn't sure if her little boy knew the message attached to it, but she finally understood that small offering.

_May you be happy._


End file.
